


The Price of Sacrifice

by Dr_Harbinger



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Instability, Past Relationship(s), Past Torture, Red Lyrium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 14:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10573086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Harbinger/pseuds/Dr_Harbinger
Summary: AU. With the capture of Maxwell Trevelyan, the Inquisition had floundered. With his title as the Red King, Thedas fell at the Elder One's feet. But those that he had once held dear had not given up, had continued to fight the good fight. Maxwell had known the day when he would personally have to face them again would come. And he would make them pay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is response to a prompt on the DA Kink Meme. There are character deaths in this one. There are graphic descriptions of torture both past and lingering and the toll that kind of thing takes on the human psyche.
> 
> IF ANY OF THE ABOVE IS TRIGGERING TO YOU, DO NOT READ

In a way, Maxwell Trevelyan knew it would eventually come to this. Even before the red lyrium and its twisted song in his blood he had been too skilled as both an assassin and a strategist. Leliana’s spies never got close. Josephine’s diplomats never made it within three cities. He lost count how many soldiers had fallen to his blades. He had broken several of them, the metal too badly dented and splintered from the number of bones he hacked through. He barely noticed how much blood stained his armor anymore. He only saw red. There was nothing left that wasn’t red. Even the song that threatened to deafen him with its dark and twisted notes in his waking hours sounded like it was tainted red. The knights under his command seemed to find strength when he personally led them into battle with what forces still remained. He knew he should have felt guilt. There were too many bodies left behind on the battlefields he and his men swept through. The earth would be too soaked with blood to ever grow anything and the Veil, thin with so much death, would only invite more spirits and demons through it. 

That here, at the end, while what ancient elves were left surged to protect their precious artifact from the Elder One’s hands he would face them again… perhaps it was the Maker’s justice for the atrocities he had committed. But how could he really be blamed? He had only been human and they had left him in the Elder One’s dungeons for years while He and his acolytes shattered the man he was and rebuilt him as they saw fit. The man these people knew as Maxwell Trevelyan was long gone. He died in screaming brutal agony in that small, dark and bloody torture chamber as his bones were broken one by one and his blood burned with the poison they forced into his wounds. He was glad the Elder One saw fit to keep his mouth sewed shut, even if it was hidden behind a mask and most of his still too lean face was hidden behind the deep black hood. It kept him from having to speak to them. 

He saw the moment they realized who it was they faced in the black Templar’s assassin’s robes. Saw the despair and fear in their eyes. He smiled bitterly behind his mask. Good. They saw the monster they left him to become. That would make this easier. They would fight him until the very bitter end. His grasp tightened on his red lyrium dipped blades. If he did not kill them outright in this battle then the lyrium in the blades would take root in what wounds they had left behind. They would suffer for every hour he spent in that forsaken place. He would make sure of it. 

"Maxwell!" 

He would have laughed if he still could. Instead he looked at the man he could remember loving with everything he had. Well, that the old Maxwell loved before everything was burned out by cruel fire and acid. He saw hope in Dorian's grey eyes, despair and even a deep sadness. But pled as he would, there was nothing left to plead with. The best he could do for his once beloved was make it quick. Maybe he'd even die first. Blood magic or no mages tended to be troublesome in the field. 

"Max! Listen to me! We don't have to do this!" 

Yes, he wanted to say, he did. He did have to kill. He had to eliminate any who would stand in his way, in the way of the Elder One, who would take His rightful place as the god of this world. If there was any other way he would have found it, even with his left arm being nothing more than carved red lyrium crystal below the elbow, crystal he could manipulate as he had the hand that had once been there. It was by the grace of the Elder One alone he retained enough of his mind to command the army of Red Templars and the crystals had not turned him into one of the beasts he had faced Before. 

But before he could slink into the shadows, become one with them as he was made to become one with the red lyrium, another voice spoke up. Softer, quieter and his senses screamed far more dangerous than any mage or warrior gathered. The Spirit. Compassion. He remembered the boy being a source of controversy due to his nature. To be honest he was surprised the spirit had lasted as long as he had. The world the Elder One had created since his rise to power had all but erased the compassion in this world. No doubt the spirit world suffered for its loss as much as this world had. 

"It hurts," the boy said to the others presumably but Maxwell chose to listen this time. He would hear what this child was going to say. His mission was to stall or kill them while the Elder One gained what he needed from these elves. If they would rather talk then fight he could do that too. "It always hurts. Sharp. Burning. Like daggers inside. Red. Everything is red. Only more red makes it better. Only red makes it quiet enough to sleep." 

"Cole? What are you...?" 

"You left me. You let him make me into this. You let him make me empty inside." 

"No, I-" 

"Only one way to make it right. Only one way to make it stop." 

And that was enough. He stepped back into the shadows behind him, took a deep breath to center himself and started to move. Arrows flew to where he was. Blackwall and Cassandra tried to create a protective barrier around the mages. Iron Bull stood further away but tried to do the same. Only the spirit was able to track him but the Spirit was hindered by the semi existence of the mortal world and the Fade in the same place. He swept around the big brute, ignoring the spirit, blades ready and pounced at Dorian who spun just in time to catch the initial strike. The tips of them cut into his mage robes. Maxwell huffed. Well. Perhaps the mage had gotten faster in their time apart. 

He heard the bows twang and swept around to knock them from the air before rushing the archers. It took only a small effort of will to deflect the minor spells cast after him. His blades stayed true. The elf girl stared at him with wide eyes as he ran her through, eyes filled with tears. Blood bubbled passed her lips before he pulled his blades apart, effectively cutting her in half. It was not his quickest death but she wouldn't live long. 

Cries of rage made him turn as Cassandra charge at him, shield braced in front of her and her eyes blazing. But her armor and shield were heavy. He had more than enough time to leap over her head and drive his blades up and under the heavy breast plate through the chainmail. It wasn't a fatal blow, not yet, but the lyrium, pain and blood loss would slow her down. He withdrew his blades quickly but not quick enough as an arrow pierced his left shoulder with no little force. 

Max grunted with the pain before he straightened and turned toward Varric who was watching him with angry if sad eyes. "Sorry, kid," he said as he reloaded his weapon, "It's nothing personal." As if that mattered. 

He dodged around Blackwall's charge and then leapt over Iron Bull's axe as it tried to swipe him, his blades carving deep into the Qunari's flank before he moved to seek out the others. The mage, Solas, was missing. Vivenne was trying to bolster the others with barriers and her own drawn spirit sword. With only a little concentration he shut down her barrier spell before charging forward. Her blade may be magic but she wielded it like a staff and staves, while advantageous at a distance, were cumbersome up close. While her magic staff caught one blade the other pierced her through her side, tearing into her lung. She choked. Her hands loosened on her staff and he took the opportunity to slice open her throat with the other newly freed blade. 

He gasps through his stitched shut mouth when he felt the cold press of blades into his body blades that no doubt ran him through while he watched her drop. He concentrated and with the lyrium in his blood pressed the spirit back far enough that he could attack it too. He could feel the crystals in his blood already forming around the metal, trying to seal his blood within himself. But his still human body was still human in all the ways that mattered. Every missed blow made him pull and tear at his own body and slowed him down. The arrows that missed before found their marks. Throwing knives buried themselves deep. The song of the lyrium could not drown out the pain. 

One of the warriors knocked into him hard, slamming him against the stone of one of the pillars. The blades still in his body were driven in deeper. He cried out against his will but tried to stay on his feet even as Cassandra's sword ran him through his chest. His eyes met hers for just a moment. The song faded. The red that had clouded his vision, his mind, his very soul seemed to disperse if only for the moment. She stepped back and as he collapsed, Dorian came to his side. He didn't care that his blades were kicked away. The lyrium wasn't fast enough to save him. Not this time. His left crystal arm started to crumble away. He barely noticed their surprise when they realized the truth of his arm. His senses were focused on Dorian instead... on those storm grey eyes that looked as haunted as he felt. 

His hood was drawn back, revealing his face. The sun felt warm for once, not burning like it usually did. He saw the surprise and sadness in Dorian when he saw the dark veins that marred once pale, freckled skin. He thought he was ready to see the horror there when the cloth that had covered his nose and mouth was loosened and removed but perhaps there was nothing once could do to truly be ready for it. He distantly heard someone gasp in surprise but all he saw was Dorian covering his mouth and tears falling down his cheeks. 

"He's sorry," the spirit said for him, standing nearby where his left hand might have been had it still existed. "He did everything he could to come back to you. But the pain was too much, the song too loud. He hoped to see you one more time before the end." 

"Oh Max..." 

If he knew his touch would not harm his lover he may have reached out to touch soft, warm skin one more time. But he knew he was poison. Having Dorian even this close put him at risk. His chest burned but compared to the agony he endured to become this way it was nothing. He could hear the rattle in his own chest. He had no doubt they heard it too. His time was short. So he looked Dorian in the eyes one last time and let Cole say the last words that he could not. "He loves you Dorian. He's glad he got to see you one last time. That you're with him now." 

He didn't hear whatever Dorian had to say in return. His chest felt too tight. His body fought to breathe but it was a fair struggle. He gasped and fought and wheezed but it wouldn't be enough. He was laid down but it did no good. He passed away with tears in his blue eyes, gasping for the breath he would never catch again in a pool of his own blood and lyrium. At least, he managed to think before he lost his grasp on even that, Dorian could move on now. He could be happy again in what time they had managed to scrounge for themselves by killing the Elder One's right hand. He could only hope they would succeed where he so miserably failed. For all their sakes.


End file.
